Chapter 177

They had finished a transaction here recently, he thought. Not a raid, not a hurried theft—this had the careful, cleaned-up feel of the underworld. Boxes opened, goods accounted, traces deliberately minimized. Whoever ran this route didn’t move stray spoils; they moved inventory.

Ludger let the knowledge settle, a cold stone in his gut. Maurien had wanted the whole thing cut out. Finding a waypoint where coin, blood, and those same dangerous herbs passed through in the same breath would not make that request any easier to carry out.

He stood very still, the room’s silence pressing at his ears. Outside, the rain tapped a steady rhythm on the ground above—too small to disturb what was hidden below, but loud enough to wash the surface of the world. He closed his eyes and allowed a short, private bitterness to pass across his face.

Maurien won’t like this,

he thought, and the words were as close to a promise as he got.

Ludger didn’t linger. Once he was certain there was nothing else to find, he headed back toward the stairwell, his boots silent on the cold stone. The stale air shifted faintly behind him, as though the room itself exhaled in relief at being left alone again.

At the base of the stairs, he paused. Leaving the hideout open would be stupid—too easy for someone to reclaim, too obvious a trail. But collapsing it completely would mean leaving a heavy mana signature behind, something any competent mage could trace.

He pressed a hand to the wall, letting a controlled pulse of earth mana seep through the seams. The stones groaned quietly, shifting, then settled as dirt and packed gravel began to flow down, filling the steps layer by layer until the passage looked as if it had never existed.

He considered forcing it deeper—sinking the entire chamber into the bedrock—but stopped himself. Callen’s rain spell was still reshaping the local mana flow above, and overloading the field might make it flare like a beacon. Better to be patient.

When the last breath of cool air from below vanished and the ground felt solid beneath his boots, he brushed off his hands and turned back toward the road.

The drizzle had thinned to a light mist when he reached the others. The recruits were where he’d left them, horses restless, eyes sharp. Freyra straightened first when she saw him.

“Well?” she asked, voice low.

Ludger opened his mouth to answer—then froze.

A ripple hit his Seismic Sense like a thunderclap. Fast. Heavy.. A single figure moving toward them at full speed.

A heartbeat later, a burst of movement cut through the rain. Maurien stepped into view from the treeline, cloak soaked, eyes sharp and unamused.

Every recruit jumped, hands half-reaching for weapons before realizing who it was. Even Freyra blinked, caught between annoyance and surprise.

Maurien stopped a few paces away, water dripping from his sleeves, his gaze already fixed on Ludger. “You’ve been busy,” he said.

Ludger sighed quietly, lowering his scarf. “You could at least

pretend

to make noise when you show up.”

Maurien’s mouth twitched into something close to a smirk. “And miss that look on their faces?” He gestured toward the group, most of whom were still wide-eyed. “Never.”

Freyra muttered under her breath, “Old fox moves like a ghost…”

Maurien ignored it, stepping closer, his expression shifting back to its usual sharp focus. “Report,” he said simply.

Ludger nodded once, the humor gone from his eyes. “You’re not going to like it.”

Ludger didn’t waste time. Once everyone had gathered close, he gave a short, precise account of what he’d found—the empty crates, the fresh dust, the scents of blood, gold, and herbs, and the hidden staircase that led to the underground room. He explained how it was recently cleaned, how the place had been sealed off, and how he buried the entrance again.

Maurien listened without interrupting, his face tightening with every sentence. By the time Ludger finished, the older mage’s expression had gone from grim to downright murderous. The faint light from Callen’s conjured rain flickered across his sharp features, casting deep shadows under his eyes.

“So they’re using earth magic,” Maurien muttered, almost to himself. “Makes sense. The two men you tracked probably used it to bury their tracks after leaving the hideout. Not enough to hide from an ordinary scout—but enough to fool most detection spells.”

He turned his gaze on Ludger. “Except yours, apparently.”

Ludger just shrugged. “They smoothed the ground well, but they didn’t factor in the water weight from Callen’s rain. It made the soil too dense to fool my Seismic Sense completely. Maybe I wouldn’t have found without the rain, it was a bit of luck on our side.”

Maurien gave a short, approving grunt. “Good work. Can you trace their trail toward the mountains?”

“I can,” Ludger said, glancing toward the distant, mist-shrouded peaks. “But not for long. The trail’s faint already. Every hour we wait, it gets worse.”

Rhea frowned. “Then we should move now.”

Ludger shook his head. “Not with the horses. They’re too loud, and the ground’s soft from the rain. We’d announce ourselves miles away.”

Taron looked at him, worried. “So what, we go on foot?”

Ludger nodded. “Yeah. We move quiet and fast. I’ll take point and guide us along the trail. If it fades before we reach the slopes, we’ll switch to search formation.”

Maurien studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Good. We’ll leave the horses here—tether them near the tree line and cover the tracks. We go light and silent from here on.”

Freyra cracked her neck and grinned. “Finally.”

Derrin muttered, “You call hiking through mud

finally

?”

She smirked. “Better than sitting on my ass waiting for ghosts.”

Ludger ignored their banter, already crouching to touch the ground again. The faintest pulse of movement answered him—a tremor leading northward, toward the looming shape of the mountains. It was weak, barely more than a whisper, but it was there.

He stood, brushing the damp dirt from his gloves. “Got it,” he said quietly. “They’re heading for the lower passes. If we move now, we might catch them.”

Maurien’s expression hardened again, that glint of predatory focus returning to his eyes. “Then let’s move. No mistakes from here on out.”

Ludger nodded once. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ludger crouched beside the tethered horses, brushing rain from his hair as he studied the faint trail disappearing into the darkness of the mountain path. The others gathered around, eyes wary and uncertain, the steady drizzle turning their cloaks a shade darker.

“We’ll go alone,” Ludger said finally, straightening. “Maurien and I.”

That drew a chorus of uneasy looks.

Rhea frowned. “You sure that’s smart? If there’s more than two of them—”

“It’s not about smart,” Ludger cut in. “It’s about noise. Too many footsteps, too many heartbeats—we’ll spook them before we even get close.”

He looked at each of them in turn, his tone sharpening with quiet authority. “You stay here and watch the horses. If we don’t come back before sunrise, pack up and head south to the next village. Do what we did before—ask around, act natural, gather information. But don’t take risks. No chasing shadows, no heroics.”

Callen hesitated. “And if we find something big?”

“Mark it and move on,” Ludger said simply. “You’re not here to die for curiosity.”

That silenced them for a moment. The only sound was the rain whispering through the grass and the faint snort of a restless horse.

Then Freyra stepped forward.

“I’m coming with you,” she said flatly.

Ludger didn’t even turn around at first. “No, you’re not.”

She folded her arms, chin tilting upward in that stubborn way that always preceded trouble. “You’re walking into whatever the Empire’s hiding up there. I want to see it for myself.”

Maurien exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across his temple. “You’re not exactly… subtle,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And you’re too tall to blend into shadows. We need silence, not a walking flag.”

Freyra’s eyes narrowed. “And leaving me here isn’t subtle either. You think the villagers won’t notice a northerner standing around? If anyone’s watching this camp, my presence is the loudest thing you’ve got. I’ll draw trouble faster than you two combined.”

That gave both men pause.

Ludger glanced at Maurien. Maurien met his eyes and sighed through his nose—the deep, resigned kind of sigh that only older men and tired teachers mastered.

“She’s got a point,” Maurien admitted reluctantly. “If she stays, she’ll attract the wrong kind of attention. And if she goes, she’ll attract a different kind.”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. “So either way, we get attention.”

Freyra smirked. “At least with me around, you’ll get the kind that smashes skulls.”

Maurien gave her a long, tired look. “You really don’t do diplomacy, do you?”

“Never learned it,” she said proudly.

Ludger shook his head. “Fine. But you follow my lead. No yelling, no charging, no smashing, until I said so.”

“I’ll try,” Freyra said, smiling like she had no intention of trying at all.

Maurien muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “This just got complicated.”

Ludger adjusted his scarf, the faintest ghost of a smirk touching his mouth. “Welcome to my life.”

And with that, the three of them slipped into the darkness, leaving the recruits behind with uneasy stares and the quiet knowledge that the night ahead would not be kind.

They moved like storm wind over the wet earth—silent, and swift.

Ludger’s boots hit the ground in perfect rhythm, each step molded to the terrain by instinct. Freyra thundered beside him, her longer strides crushing through mud and roots without breaking pace, every breath sharp and visible in the cold air. Maurien didn’t so much

run

as

glide

—his boots barely kissed the ground, his cloak streaming behind him as though the rain itself was parting to make way.

In less than a minute, they cleared the first stretch of hills. Even at that speed, Ludger’s breathing was controlled, measured; his mind was fixed on the faint tremors of movement ahead, the echoes of their quarry’s footprints still embedded in the soaked ground.

Freyra’s voice cut through the wind. “You’re fast, pipsqueak!” she called, half impressed, half mocking. “Didn’t think those short legs could keep up!”

Ludger didn’t bother looking at her. “You’re not exactly doing yourself favors with that form,” he said, his tone steady even as the rain whipped against his face. “You could make more noise only if you tried.”

She huffed, grinning despite the jab. “You should be glad I’m even running with you instead of sitting on your precious guild’s horses.”

Ludger sighed. “You couldn’t be doing worse if you

wanted

to stay out of the guild.”

That made her slow slightly, brow furrowing. “I never said I

wanted

to join.”

“No,” Ludger said quietly, eyes forward, “but you’re making it pretty clear why you should.”

The wind roared around them for a few seconds before he added, “You’re going to disappoint Kharnek, you know. He wants you to be better than he was. Smarter. He’s trying to build something for your people that lasts longer than his temper.”

Freyra’s jaw tightened. “And you think joining your guild is going to fix that? You Imperials—”

“I’m not talking about the guild,” Ludger cut her off, voice sharp now. “I’m talking about

you.

You’re strong, and you’ve got a head for leadership when you stop shouting long enough to use it. But instead, you’d rather chase ghosts and hate the Empire until it kills you.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t slow, didn’t look back.

“That’s the same path your father took when he was your age,” Ludger went on, quieter but harder. “Rage makes you fight well, but it doesn’t make you win. He learned that. You haven’t. At this rate, you will only drag your underlings to an early grave.”

For once, Freyra didn’t have an immediate comeback. The rain filled the silence between them, cold and heavy.

Maurien, still gliding effortlessly beside them, gave Ludger a sidelong glance. “You always this gentle with new recruits?”

“Only the stubborn ones,” Ludger said flatly. “Well, we only have stubborn ones, apparently.”

Freyra finally snorted, though her tone was quieter than usual. “You talk too much for a kid.”

“And you think too little for a leader,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as the first rocky incline of the mountain came into view through the mist.

She growled something in northern dialect that Ludger pretended not to understand. Maurien just shook his head, almost smiling.

But despite the exchange, they didn’t slow. They moved as one now—fire, stone, and shadow cutting through the storm toward whatever waited in the mountains ahead.

Before long, the ground beneath their feet shifted from slick mud to cold, jagged stone. The trees thinned, the air grew sharper, and the distant rumble of rain faded behind them. They had reached the mountains.

Here, the rain didn’t reach—the sky above was a dark shroud, but the ridgelines formed a vast, dry shadow where only wind moved. The soil was hard, fractured; the damp trails they’d been following disappeared completely.

Ludger slowed to a stop near a ridge of black rock and crouched, one palm pressed against the ground. He felt nothing. No vibrations, no shifting weight, no trace of motion anywhere within range.

Freyra frowned. “Lost them already?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he inhaled and poured more mana into the ground, extending his

Seismic Sense

far beyond his comfort zone. The pulse spread outward like a heartbeat made of stone—rippling through the base of the mountain, up the slopes, through layers of old rock and fossilized dirt.

He strained, focusing until his temples began to ache. The further the waves went, the weaker they became, stretching thinner and thinner until they brushed the very peak ahead.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No trails. Not even the faint hum of wildlife.

The silence of it gnawed at him more than any noise could.

After a few seconds, he pulled back sharply, the sudden recoil of drained mana leaving a hollow pressure in his chest. He exhaled hard, straightening, sweat beading at his temple despite the cold.

“They’re gone,” he said finally. His voice was tight. “The trail stops here.”

Maurien had already been watching him carefully, arms folded, his own mana faintly flickering like embers beneath the soaked cloak. “Gone?”

Ludger nodded. “Not up, not around. Down.” He pointed at the stone beneath them. “They’re underground. Has to be. Either hidden tunnels made with earth magic or old mines—they’re using the mountains to move unseen.”

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